Chapter 2

"Harry, I can't take it any more!" Hermione is flushed and she waves her arms as she closes in on Harry, who sits in a chair in front of the fire in their common room.

Harry looks at her in quiet questioning.

"I'll trade you. I'll take Malfoy, any day." She sinks down into the chair next to Harry.

"My guess would be that one of the girls in here is driving you mad. If you're so desperate that you're prepared to take Malfoy, I'd say it's a dire situation."

"Yes. It is. Please come and visit me in Azkaban after I have killed her." Hermione's breathing is slowly returning to a normal pace.

Harry sighs. "Let's start at the beginning. Who is driving you spare?"

"Parkinson of course. She's an absolute horror that one. I was only telling them that Ron will be sleeping in my bed tonight – it is Friday after all – and she started to bicker at once, saying that it was a girls' dormitory, and she liked it to be just that. So I got angry and told her that just because no guy will ever want her except the Death Eater loser, she shouldn't make a fuss over those of us who actually have nice guys. Then she got all angry too and started to say things like that Malfoy isn't a Death Eater, that he is a nice guy, and that she still is an attractive girl, and then she finished off with saying "...and if you haven't figured out by now why Draco and I aren't a couple you're a good deal stupider than you'd like people to know.". Can you believe that she dares?"

"Um." Harry blinks and tries to figure out what answer is right here. "No?"

"No, exactly. And it's always the same. She always has something to say about everything, and now she calls me 'Little Miss Perfect' as soon as I tell her off for something. And there's always something to tell her off about, because that girl is so bloody annoying! And I bet she does it just to wind me up."

"Oh. I see." Harry squirms in his chair. Upset girls isn't his speciality.

"Anyway, since I was pretty pissed by then I told her to keep her big mouth shut since she's nothing more than Slytherin trash, and can you imagine what she did then? She smiled. A sweet smile with fluttering eyelashes, and then she asked me if I'd like to repeat that in front of McGonagall." Hermione throws her hands in the air. "You see. You understand how horrid she is?"

"I'm sorry for you, having to live with one of the ex-Slytherins when they behave like that. I must say that I'm surprised, but the most of the time Malfoy is almost not annoying at all."

"Lucky you. Maybe he's afraid you're going to challenge him on a duel if he misbehave." Hermione rolls her eyes. "But I must admit, that Greengrass girl is surprisingly pleasant. Never makes a fuss and is calm and polite. If only Parkinson hadn't been there." She groans and leans back in her chair. Then she sits up again. "Oh, yeah. Do you know what she said the other day?"

"No."

"I was saying something to Hannah about Malfoy, and of course she jumps in uninvited, saying that I should try to accept some of the eighth-year spirit and get to know the others instead of talking about them behind their backs. So I assured her that I had no intention of befriending Malfoy, I know his kind, thank you very much. But she went on about how people are different when you get to know them, and that things aren't only black or white. As if I didn't know that. And then, this is the worst part, she starts ranting about how Malfoy has a hard life, and it was so pathetic so I couldn't help but laugh. What does she do then? She says that she hopes that the war has damaged me and that I wasn't always this bad, and that I should buy some more empathy next time I go shopping, because the amount I have now fits on a finger nail." Hermione sighs. "She can be so bloody mean when she likes to."

"You don't think you should talk with McGonagall about it? I mean, you can't live like that." Harry moves in his chair with a worried expression. In the back of his head there's a tiny voice that says that maybe these rows aren't solely Parkinson's fault. But Hermione is his friend, and he's going to support her if she needs him.

"I don't think it would be any use. She would only tell us to act like grown ups and solve our problems."

"You're probably right." Harry scratches his neck. "I can ask Blaise to talk with her if you'd like?"

"Yes, that would be nice. I don't know if it will work, but I'm prepared to try anything right now." Hermione sighs.

Harry looks at her with a thoughtful face. Except being nice to her I guess. But he knows he shouldn't talk, he hasn't really gone out of his way to be nice to Malfoy, even though he has been surprisingly quiet and avoided any potential conflict. He frowns. But if Malfoy wants to be treated like another person than the one he was before, he has to prove himself, that's just the way it works. Then he sees Hermione reach for her books, and sensing an incoming study session he jumps up.

"Um, I think I'm going to read that text for Transfiguration. The dormitory should be empty now, so it will be silent." He waves at her and heads toward the stairs. As he walks up the stairs he feels a little guilty for lying to Hermione, but he really isn't in the mood for studying right now. He just wants to relax for once. He stretches as he walks over to his bed, then lies down on his back, arms under his head. He is just enjoying the silence and the feeling of being alone when Draco enters the room. He gives Harry an odd glance, nods in his direction and moves over to his bed. After a while it becomes obvious that he's looking for something, and Harry looks at Draco as he moves around the room. He must admit that it is interesting, in some ways, to share room with Malfoy. It's a bit like having a panther there, something strange and potentially dangerous and fascinating to watch. Something you can't really understand. Potentially dangerous... He looks distractedly as Draco finds the book he was looking for, lays down on his stomach on the bed and starts reading. "Then she got all angry too and started to say things like that Malfoy isn't a Death Eater..." He has to admit that it's a question he has given a lot and even more time thinking about. It's over two years since he first suspected it, and he has never really stopped wondering. The question is, will the panther bite if he pokes it? Pokes it pretty hard actually. Mentally shrugging he decides that he'll always be a Gryffindor and that it's only one way to find out. He stands up and walks over to Draco's bed. He can see how Draco stiffens up when he gets close. When he reaches the edge of the bed he stops.

"Malfoy?"

Closing his book, Draco slowly turns around and looks at him. "Yes."

"I was wondering if you could do something for me." There is the softest of nervous tremors in his voice.

Draco looks wary and his eyes narrow, but he sits up in front of Harry. "What?"

Harry takes a deep breath and pushes away the tingle of worry. Here goes. "I'd like you to show your left forearm to me."

First nothing what so ever happens, Draco is sitting as still as if he turned to stone, and Harry thinks that he is going to refuse. But after a couple of seconds he comes to life again, and a shaking hand starts to tug at the buttons at his sleeve with such force that he almost rips them off instead of unbuttoning them. When he gets it open he shoves it up the arm and holds out his forearm to Harry. It's clean and smooth, and there is a screaming absence of any Dark Mark. Harry stares at the arm for a moment, then he looks up and meets Draco's eyes.

"You never took it."

"No." Draco swallows.

"I see. I was wrong." He looks back at the arm, reaches out a hand and lets a finger trace Draco's arm. "Soft."

There's a sharp intake of breath from Draco and Harry yanks his hand back. He looks up and meets Draco's eyes again. For some seconds they just look at each other, then Harry opens his mouth to say something, but after a short silence he closes it again. He feels how the moment stretches out and turns surreal. Potter and Malfoy, Hogwarts' most burning enemies, are standing an arm length from each other, perfectly calm and polite. No hexes, no punches and no insults. Maybe they really have grown up a bit? He was about to say that they are both relaxed, but when he lets go of Draco's eyes he realizes that the other boy is completely motionless, his arm still held out and his eyes big. A thought dawns on him.

"This was very important to you."

Draco nods.

"Is it because you wanted to tell someone or because it's me?" Harry's eyes narrows.

"Because it's you. I've wanted to tell you for so long." Draco almost trips over his own words in the last sentence.

The narrow eyes are still there, but now they are accompanied by a suspicious expression. "And who am I? Which of the many Harry Potters was it you wanted to tell?"

Draco's face opens up and becomes very honest. "Just Harry."

Obviously surprised Harry blinks a couple of times, and is about to say something when Blaise enters. He looks at them and takes a step back.

"Did I interrupt something? I can come back later."

Harry swirls on the spot and heads for his bed. "No, no problem. We were done." He sits down on his bed, only to stand up again and walking for the door, mumbling something about 'finding Hermione', and then he's out of sight.

oOo

Draco pulls down his sleeve again and buttons it. He plays it again in his head: they had a real conversation. Without shouting and insulting each other. And now Harry knows, now he can't doubt it. He knows that Draco isn't a Death Eater. And he was the one coming to Draco, he came and asked as if Draco was anyone, a normal person. And then-

"Hey, what was that about?" Blaise is talking to him, and right now he just want Blaise to go and leave him with his thoughts.

"I just showed him that I haven't got the Mark." Draco talks down at his feet.

"He didn't know that?" Blaise looks surprised.

"No." Draco pokes one shoe with the other. "He was sure that I had it."

Blaise shrugs. "Being the one he is you thought he should know his Death Eaters."

"Maybe it was easier for him to fight those who tried to kill him instead of stopping people on the street, asking for the Mark." The sarcasm is unmistakable.

"Well, hello old-time Draco, I've almost missed you." Blaise grins at him. "Honestly, I was a bit worried about sharing dormitory with him, being the one he is. I thought that maybe he would be so full of himself that we wouldn't get room to breathe, or that he would be broken by the war and so depressed that it became a pain to live here, or that he would have turned into some kind of saint and everything just getting awkward and embarrassing."

"I've heard that it's good to breath every now and then too." Draco send him a cold glance.

"You're in good shape today. Anyway, what I was coming to is that he turned out to be a perfectly normal guy, even a nice one. You sure can't tell that he's the Saviour of the way he behave, he's just like anyone else." He flops down on his bed. "So, tell me. What did Harry do to piss you off that much?"

Draco gives him a disdainful look. "It hasn't crossed your tiny mind that it wasn't – hang on. Did you just call him Harry?"

"Yeah. We've been spending some time together, and we thought that since we will live together for a year it's just stupid to keep on using last names."

A silent stare is all the response from Draco.

"I must say that I'm glad we got placed in the same room as him, I look forward to getting to know him." Blaise looks expectant.

"Honestly Blaise, I don't want to talk to you right now." Draco turns with as much dignity as he can find, but when he lies down on the bed, his back towards Blaise, he can hear a muffled laugh from him. Trying to ignore it Draco wishes it was late enough for him to just undress and go to bed, but he has to make do with laying on the bed instead. He works on closing out Blaise and focus on Harry. On his eyes and the never ending eye contact. On his voice. And... was it real? Did Harry actually touch him? A small smile appears on Draco's lips. Yes, he did. Draco has no idea why, but he feels the finger moving over his skin again. And then he is saying 'Soft', and what is that supposed to mean? Except that he probably thought Draco's skin was soft, why did he say it? The thoughts move over and over in Draco's head until they begin to slur; the tension leaves his body, and he falls asleep.

"...and then she was saying that she always liked the green one best anyway." Blaise makes a resigned gesture with his arms.

Harry laughs. "Italian girls are not always that sharp it seems. They can't all have been that bad?" He sits down at the table for lunch.

"Well, I'm sorry to say that those I met where divided in two types. One kind was like her with the green scarf, pretty girls but with the brain of a chicken." Blaise helps himself to some pie. "The other kind was funny girls, clever and entertaining, but with looks that makes you think dating McGonagall sounds like a good idea."

"You're obviously a bit picky." Harry grins at him.

"Of course I am. I'm not dating just anyone, I want the real deal or nothing at all."

"Hopefully you'll have better luck here, I'd say Hogwarts have a lot of girls who fit both criteria."

Blaise looks at him in feigned resignation. "But all the good ones are already taken. We can't all be as lucky as you."

"True." Harry's smile becomes slightly forced, and when he looks over at the Gryffindor table it falters.

With a small frown Blaise is watching him before smoothly changing subject. "You know, Gryffindor will be crushed in Quidditch this year."

"What? Why do you think that?" Harry looks surprised.

"It's no secret what Gryffindor's not-so-secret weapon has been for the last seven years." Blaise smirks.

Harry lifts a very confused eyebrow.

"Come on. Haven't it dawned on you yet that you can't play for them this year?"

"Oh. No, I didn't think of that." He looks a bit dejected. "You're right of course. I guess that means no Quidditch for me this year."

Blaise thoughtfully chews on his pie. "You know, you could ask McGonagall if you can start Quidditch practice just for fun. For all the people who didn't make it to the teams, and those who like to fly but don't like the massive regular training or the competition of the tournament."

"You know..." Harry tilts his head. "That's not a totally bad idea. But do you think anyone will come?"

There's an amused snort from Blaise. "Honestly, Harry. There will be people who can't even sit on a broom there if you're the one leading it."

Harry gives Blaise a dark look.

"Oh, don't be like that, that's not what I meant. You might be oblivious to it, but it's a fact that you've been a Quidditch star in this school since your first year."

"I... I never..." Harry squirms a bit and looks down at his plate.

Blaise looks at him in amusement. "If you react like that when we talk about catching a stupid ball, what do you do when people congratulate you for having slain You-Know-Who?"

Harry's head jerks up, embarrassment gone and irritation burning in his eyes. "Well, since I can't tell them to fuck off I just have to make do with a stupid smile and a burning wish that the shit will be over soon."

"I... see..." Blaise looks at Harry with big eyes. "That's not a really good subject for you, is it?"

"Do you want my memories? My experiences?"

"I'm pretty sure that I don't." He gives Harry a thoughtful look. "With that response I'm surprised that you didn't just rip Draco's head off at the start of term. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you didn't, I like Draco."

Harry visibly forces a calm expression onto his face. "No, I've already killed enough in this hall." He lifts his goblet with a nonchalant shrug but a slightly shaking hand.

"Oh yeah." Blaise looks around as if it was the first time he had seen it. "It was here it actually happened."

"Thank you for the reminder, I had almost forgot." The sarcasm in Harry's words is almost painful.

"It's almost surreal, don't you think?"

"And I didn't rip Malfoy's head off since, contrary to many people's belief, I don't hate him. He's a bloody nuisance, and sometimes I just want to... I don't know. Something. But I don't hate him any more, and I don't think I have done in a pretty long time."

Blaise lifts Harry's goblet and sniffs it's contents. "Are you sure you're not drunk? I never thought I would hear you say that." He puts the goblet down and turns to Harry with a questioning frown. "But why do you still give him the silent treatment then? You almost live on the top of each other, and you never talk."

"He has something I want. And until he proves himself with that I'm not going to make any attempts at getting closer to him."

"Draco thinks that you hate him, you know. I mean really hate him." Blaise frowns. "I'm sure it would mean very much to him to know that's not the case."

"Well then you better not tell him. I want to do it myself." Harry looks stern.

"You will? When?"

"When he gives me what I need." There's a stubborn look on Harry's face. "Not before then."

"Um, Harry? Does Draco know what it is you want from him?"

"He'd better."

Blaise groans. "Harry, this is stupid. Eat that damn pie and then we're out of here so we can talk about this properly." Seeing Harry's look he continues. "And what you say will stay with me."

After hastily gulping down the last of the food, they leave the hall and walk outside, heading for the Quidditch pitch. They climb up the stands and sit down.

"Now, what is it that Draco has that you want so badly?" Blaise gives Harry a searching look.

"A thank you." Harry looks out over the pitch.

"You just want him to thank you? For what?"

"I imagine it's not that easy, or he should have done it ages ago. For one, he has to admit to himself that there is something to thank for. I don't know if he has done that. I don't know how arrogant he actually is."

"But what is it about? Is it about... the thing you did?" Blaise seems to choose his words carefully.

"It's about a thing I did, but not about that. I don't walk around demanding personal praise for being who I am." He turns his head and looks at Blaise. "I thought you should have figured that out by now."

Blaise sighs. "Damn it, just tell me what it is."

"No."

"Why not?" He seems surprised.

"Because I have a feeling that it's Malfoy's story to tell, not mine."

"Well, how about this – you go and find Draco and tell him what you want from him, giving him a chance to know what the game is?"

"No. He will come to me or nothing at all."

"You're a stubborn fucker, do you know that?"

"It has been said." Harry looks out over the pitch again.

Blaise puts his elbows on his knees and rests his head in his hands. "You would make his life a lot better, doesn't that mean something?"

Harry glances at him. "He spent five years of his life trying to make my life hell, and two years as one of the lot who tried to kill me. I find it hard to motivate myself to do something to make his life a little better."

"It would show you as a greater man if you took the first step anyway."

"Killing Voldemort doesn't make me a saint." Harry draws a pattern with his finger on his knee. "And with the amount of hate he has for me I'm surprised he even cares."

Blaise looks at him in disbelief. "You think he hates you?"

"Of course, he always has." Harry shrugs.

"And exactly how many death glares have you had lately? How many snide comments? How much taunting?" Blaise looks at him and shakes his head. "And even I can see that there is no hate in the looks he gives you now."

Harry frowns, then tilts his head. "You know... I've never seen it that way. And if I look at it that way..." The frown deepens and he stares unseeingly straight ahead. After a while he looks back to Blaise. "But he's still the single most annoying person in the world. He winds me up just by being in the same room."

"I know. You've shared room with him for two weeks, wait until you've lived with him for six years." Blaise grins. "And I assure you that he's been a paragon compared to what we had to endure in the dungeons." He looks at Harry. "That might be the only good thing about how you force him to tip-toe around you."

"I don't force him to do anything at all." Harry glares at Blaise.

"Don't be stupid, a child would see how afraid he is to upset you after the first day. He barely talks any more when you are present, and I assure you that he isn't a silent person usually. Ask Weasley, Draco even talks with him when you're not there." He glares back at Harry. "And you should be damn proud of the apology you got. For you it might be the obvious thing to do, but Draco really doesn't do apologies."

Harry looks sulky. "Your point being?"

"That he actually tries. He doesn't try to make your world all sunshine, but at least he tries not to annoy you. If nothing else, acknowledge that."

"I don't care. I'm not going to move a finger until he gives me what I want."

Blaise just stares at him in disbelief, but soon his lips start to twitch, just to evolve into a laugh.

"What?" Harry glares at him. "What's so funny?"

"You just get some perspective on life when you're sitting next to the man who saved the world, and he's sulking like an obstinate three years old."

"Just shut it."

They sit in silence for a moment, but then Blaise talks again. "Who do you think will replace you on the team?"

"Ginny, I suppose. She has played Seeker before and is good at it." Harry thinks for a bit. "They will need to find a lot of new players, almost half of the team is gone. And that's if everyone who was on the team two years ago and is still here is interested in playing. I wonder if Ron has realized that he can't play."

"But I guess your girlfriend will have some expert training." Blaise winks at him. "If you can keep the focus on the snitch, that is."

"Oh. Yeah, maybe. But she's really good already." Harry looks intently at something in the stands on the opposite side. "And she'll have a lot of training with the team anyway."

Blaise smiles a small smile to himself. "What do you say about getting back to the castle? I'd like to be there before the class starts."

"Yeah." Harry looks back at Blaise and sighs. "It sounds like a good idea."

Blaise walks in the second of the eighth-year boys' dormitories and sinks down on his bed, watching a relaxed Harry who's lying on his bed, humming to himself and flipping through the pages of a book.

"It's Saturday you know, don't you have anything better to do?" Blaise tilts his head.

Harry looks up. "Um, no? It's nice here."

"Usually people spends their free time with their friends. Or their girlfriends." He pauses. "Honestly, why aren't you with your girlfriend? From what I've seen of her I would have thought she'd love to spend the whole day with you."

"She wanted to, but I had to study." Harry turns a page.

Blaise looks amused. "Harry, that's Quidditch Through the Ages, and by the look of the pages you have memorised the whole book by now. What terrible plans did she have to make you end up here?"

Sighing, Harry scratches a stain in the book. "She hinted that she would have seventh-years girls' dormitory to herself all afternoon."

"What?" There is an incredulous expression on his face. "You get offered the possibility to fuck your girlfriend, and you'd rather lie here alone, reading a book about sports for the umpteenth time?"

"Just shut up." Harry sends him a murderous glare.

"No, honestly Harry, I don't get this. You don't want to spend time alone with your girlfriend?"

Harry sighs and hides his face in his pillow.

Blaise walks over to him and pokes him in the shoulder. "Hey." He takes a step back and sits down on Ron's bed. "Something's not right here, and sometimes it's good to say it out loud."

"It's just..." Harry flops back on his back. "Ginny keeps demanding a lot of... relationship stuff. Things that I don't feel comfortable with, and she can't accept that. And I don't want to have another argument with her about it, so I'm solving it this way instead. It works fine."

"Who would have guessed." Blaise stares at him. "You're like this epitome of the perfect couple, but I suppose that appearances can be misleading. But you are in love with her?"

"Of course I am. She's a wonderful girl, funny, clever and someone I know I can always trust."

"Hm. And your best friend is her brother. Have you met the rest of her family too? What do they say?"

"Oh, the Weasleys more or less adopted me when I was a kid, I even celebrated Christmas with them some years. And they are all very positive and accepting, even Ron." Harry nods.

Blaise smirks. "Seems like someone has his future already planned and in place. When are you going to get married?" He grins.

Harry looks uneasy and picks up his book again. "I don't know."

"I bet that's what mother Weasley says to you all the time too."

"You lose your bet." Harry hides his face in his hands and rubs it vigorously. "She's already decided that it will be this summer, after school is over. She keep saying things like how wonderful summer weddings are, and that she has to remember to ask Aunt Muriel for the tiara in time and stuff like that."

"I can't say that you look thrilled by the thought. And hey, no pressure from the family I can hear." He rolls his eyes.

"I wish people would leave me alone. Sometimes it feels like every wizard in the country wants a part of my life." He glances at Blaise. "You look very pensive. What are you thinking?"

Blaise hesitates. "OK, but remember that you asked, don't bite my head off. You are like two persons in one, the normal Harry who I go to class with and talks to and so on, and then there's the Saviour. And you'd think that the Saviour part of you should be some glorious, happy and powerful person, but the few times when the Saviour surfaces it is mostly a very troubled one." He tilts his head. "That is, I would never duel the Saviour, however sad or troubled he is. I have some self-preservation."

"I'm going to tell you a secret." Harry sits up and leans toward Blaise. "There is no Saviour."

"What?" Blaise looks puzzled.

"There's just Harry. No one else. The one who met Voldemort on a table downstairs wasn't a powerful hero, it was just Harry. I've always been just Harry, but people insist on making up great titles and they expect a hero, a Saviour. I'm not that, I'm just Harry."

Blaise stares at him. "You really do believe that?"

"Yes?" Harry frowns.

"If just a tenth of what I have heard about the war is true... You put your life on the line and gave up everything you had to find a way to save us all. And you did it. Your decisions, your actions saved us. Of course you are a hero. Live with it."

"But I don't want to be a hero. I don't feel like a hero."

Blaise shrugs. "I'm sorry, but that's nothing to do with it. That's the kind of thing that comes with saving the world."

Harry groans and lies down on the bed. "First Ginny and now you. This day hates me."

There's a laugh from Blaise. "First a beautiful girl offers you serious 'relationship stuff', and then you get praise for your actions. I doubt very much that anyone would pity you."

"Say the word praise again and you will find out exactly how good I am at hexing."

Blaise gives him a calculating look. "I know what you need. Just don't talk too much about it." He picks up his wand and walks away, coming back a while later with two cups. "Here." He offers Harry a cup that is still striped and looking almost soft. "Sorry, I'm not a star at transfiguration."

Harry looks curiously at the cup. "And exactly what am I supposed to do with it?"

"You'll see." Blaise grins and starts rummaging through his trunk. "My uncle sent me this as an 'encouragement to my studies'. Don't ask me how he got that one to make sense, but I don't complain." He returns with a bottle of Firewhiskey and pours a generous amount first into Harry's cup and then his own.

"Thank you. That wasn't exactly what I expected to find in the dormitories." There's a surprised expression on Harry's face.

Blaise rolls his eyes. "You're in a dormitory filled with wizards who are of age, what world do you live in?"

"Sometimes I ask myself the same thing."

"Well, now I suggest you just enjoy it for a while." He lifts his cup. "To persistent girlfriends and the downside of fame."

Harry can't help giving a helpless laugh, as he raises his glass too.

Blaise and Draco sits in the library, working at their essays. Draco's is due Wednesday, Blaise's is due Monday. They work in silence and both are making good progress when someone stops in front of their desk. Draco's stomach flips when he realizes that it is Harry. He gives Draco a polite nod and turns to Blaise.

"Can I borrow your Charms book? Ron borrowed mine, and then he went away somewhere with Hermione, with my book in his bag." Harry looks tired and irritated. Draco keeps his head down but he can't help shooting glances up every now and then.

"Of course. I'm done with it for today in case you should find an urge to run off with it." Blaise grins at him.

Harry rolls his eyes. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you." He waves with the book, shoots a cold glance at Draco and walks out. Draco follows him with his eyes until he's out of sight.

"Draco, you need to talk to him." Blaise speaks in the subdued voice you use at a library.

"Does he looks like he wants to talk to me?" Draco's face is hard.

"You have to." Blaise frowns frustrate. "If you don't take the first step you will dance around each other like this for ages."

"I'm not the one who's in charge of the hating here. Go talk to him instead." He looks at Blaise and understands, his face turns disappointed and partly hurt. "You already did. And he doesn't want to talk to me more than he wants dragon pox."

"No, it's not like that." Blaise rubs his chin. "You two need to talk. You need to talk to him."

Draco snorts. "And what should we talk about? The Quidditch results?"

Blaise groans, looks at the floor, mutters something and then turns back to Draco, looking a bit uneasy. "You're supposed to know."

"What does that mean?" Draco sits perfectly still.

"I can't tell you." He looks frustrated.

"You're kidding me, right?" Draco is slowly starting to move again. "This is some fucking game for him. He actually takes his time to send you with stupid riddles for me to make my life even more miserable. How can one person hate so much?" He looks away from Blaise and swallows repeatedly.

"No, Draco, it's not like that. Not at all." Blaise sounds pained. "Look here, he's just a stubborn son of a bitch who has got a stupid thing stuck in his head, and I'm not supposed to tell you a word about it, but honestly, I've known you for seven years and..." He trails off when Draco turns at him.

"If this isn't about making my life shit, why is he playing this game?"

"I think it's about him being a bloody Gryffindor. Righteousness, fairness and probably some courage."

"Just tell me. What is it I'm supposed to know?" Draco looks focused and determined.

Blaise sighs and looks very pained and torn. "I... I'm not supposed to tell you, I promised not to say anything..." He takes a deep breath. "It's something he's done. He wouldn't tell me what it was he did, because that was your story to tell."

Draco gets pale. "He wants to talk about that?"

"Um. Kind of. Yes and no. I really can't say more now, I've already said too much."

"I... I don't know if I can do that."

"Since it's your story to tell, do you want to tell me what he did?" Blaise looks curious.

"He... he did something for me." The nightmare comes back in full power, and noticing his hands start to shake he hides them under the table. A look at Blaise tells him that it was in vain, he had already seen it.

"Then I think it's obvious what you have to do." Blaise gives him a meaningful stare, and then he stands up. "And I'm out of here before I prove even more what a shitty friend I am." He starts collecting his books and pack it in his bag.

"Thank you." Draco watches his quill spinning in his hand. "It means a lot what you told me, and even more that you did it."

Braise makes an affirmative sound, nods and heads for the door. Halfway there he stops and turns around, walking up to Draco and takes his arm. "Draco, go and talk to him. You have faced You-Know-Who, and this is supposed to be the good guy. You can do it. Just sit down and think for a minute and you'll understand what it is he wants you to do." Blaise closes his eyes. "Out of here. Yes." He releases Draco and turns, hurrying out from the library.

Draco waits until Blaise is out of sight, then he lets his head fall down on the desk. Harry wants to talk about the fire. Of course he knew that he would probably have to talk about it some time, things like that don't just go away, but the thought of having to face his dreams with Harry actually standing in front of him... He's not sure if he'll flee, cry or just throw his arms around Harry and never let him go. The consequences of each of these makes all three alternatives seem highly unattractive. But what was it Blaise said about Harry being a Gryffindor? Courage? Does Harry know how hard this is for him, and he's supposed to prove his courage by talking about it anyway? Draco wants to cry. Everyone knows that he's a coward. "Just sit down and think for a minute and you'll understand what it is he wants you to do." Does he want something more than talking about the fire? What could be worse? He plays with the idea of telling Harry exactly what happened in that room. What Draco did there, what his motivations and decisions were. Yeah, that would go brilliantly. Walking up to the very straight Saviour, who by the way is in a serious relationship, and saying 'Hi, thanks for saving my life, and by the way I am head over heels in love with you.' No, a punch in the face would be the best outcome of that. And Draco still doesn't want to talk about the fire, he can't see why they have to do that, it's not as if – wait a minute. What did he just say? "Hi, thanks for saving my life, and by the way I am head over heels in love with you." Suddenly Blaise's hints hits home. Slow and silent Draco talks under his breath.

"He wants me to thank him."